


When the lights go off

by lazarusthefirst



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Movie Night, References to past trauma, hand holding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-29
Updated: 2017-06-29
Packaged: 2018-11-21 06:30:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,208
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11351811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazarusthefirst/pseuds/lazarusthefirst
Summary: The Trojans have a movie night and someone's cute smile encourages Jean to participate





	When the lights go off

**Author's Note:**

> Another little therapy fic I wrote to make the good brain feelings

The end of a bad week. As usual, Jean’s inability to exist on his own battled with his profound, aching desire to be left alone. The memories roiled at the surface of his consciousness, just waiting for him to fall asleep so they could pounce, and grip him with their iron fingers until he awoke, gasping for air. It wasn’t always like that. Jean could usually tell when it was coming. 

And then, on top of all that, there was Jeremy. 

‘A few of us are gonna watch some movies tonight,’ he said casually that morning. He tended to ambush Jean over coffee, because it was, admittedly, when Jean was at his most mellow. The day had yet to begin, and Jean had a whole mug all to himself, and no one was about to smack it out of his hands or push it into his face. 

He made a noncommittal noise in response. 

‘Be cool if you came,’ Jeremy went on. As always, he hoped. Jean had thought for a while that Jeremy was giving him some sort of special treatment because he thought he might fly off the handle and kill himself if he didn’t get attention, but he was now convinced that it just wasn’t in Jeremy’s nature to leave someone out. Even when that person gave them a solid no almost 100% of the time. Even when that was just because he _could_ say no, now. 

‘No,’ Jean said. 

That was usually that. Jeremy had stopped looking disappointed after the first few hard rejections, and he’d leave Jean be if that’s what he wanted. 

However, just because it had been a bad week and Jean was feeling particularly hunted, Jeremy had apparently decided that today would be the day he’d push it. 

‘Are you sure?’ he asked, stirring stupid amount of creamer into his own coffee. ‘Connor’s got some good ones. We used to do it all the time, he and I. Have everyone around at the end of the week, unwind for a bit after game night. We had a good win last night. We should celebrate a little.’

Yeah, they had had a good win. Jean had dragged himself mentally kicking and screaming through the ordeal and now he needed to not think about it for a while. He had a whole afternoon of study lined up, followed by a punishing workout regime, upon completion of which he planned to fall into a deep sleep - dreamless, if he was very lucky. That was how Jean would get through the day on his own. That was how he survived.

‘No,’ he repeated, with a little more feeling. 

Jeremy put his spoon down with a little sigh. Jean wished he wouldn’t. Disappointing Jeremy was a daily ritual for him, and somehow Jean liked it about as much as he liked the bad dreams. 

‘Jean,’ he said, that soft, calming voice set to worm under Jean’s defences, if he let it. ‘I know it’s been a bad week - ’

‘What do you know?’ Jean said sharply, looking up.

‘It’s alright,’ Jeremy said, still calm. ‘It’s not … I just know you a little better now.’ When Jean continued to stare, he added, ‘Tell me you haven’t learned a thing or two about me in the last four months.’

Jean bristled, and returned to his coffee. ‘Not a thing,’ he lied. ‘I don’t like movies.’

‘Come for the company then.’

Jean set his mug down angrily. ‘Why do you have to keep doing this?’ he demanded. ‘Why can’t you just leave me alone?’

He hadn’t meant for it to come out so loud, or with such force. Jeremy flinched at the tone - he was too slow to hide his dismay - but smoothed his face out into its usual composure. 

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. He was backing off. ‘I’m sorry. I just …’

Jean wouldn’t look at him. It was not hard to turn down each request, because he knew he’d never fit in to the kinds of social events that Jeremy loved. But it _was_ hard to say no - to Jeremy. And to himself. He thought that sometimes maybe he wouldn’t hate the company. 

‘I just thought it might be cool to hang out together,’ Jeremy added unexpectedly. Jean frowned, but didn’t look up. 

‘But I get that you don’t want to,’ he went on, quietly. ‘I mean, I don’t, but - I respect that you’re saying no.’

Jean’s frown deepened. That sounded kind of rehearsed. His hands tightened on his mug.

Jeremy straightened up and gathered his coffee and phone. ‘Have a nice day, Jean,’ he said softly, as he headed for the bedroom. He even said it kindly.

Jean didn’t have a nice day. He gave it his best shot, finishing all of his homework and getting started on some extra reading for the week to come. Then after a quick lunch, he went down to the gym and worked out until his arms and legs burned, and then he worked out some more. He did yoga in between on the soft blue mats, and almost fell asleep twice. He made his slow way back to the dorms at around six thirty, as everyone else was heading out for dinner or to the movies or to one of the other, countless entertainments the students of USC enjoyed. Jean watched them all out of the corner of his eye as he passed them by. A fish swimming upstream. He wondered if being a part of one of those groups would be so terrible. If his own past experiences were anything to go by, the answer was yes. Atypical they may have been, but Jean had a long memory.

Jeremy wasn’t home yet when he got back, so he was able to shower and prepare some food in peace. Relative peace. He clattered pans and played music on his phone to drown out the silence. To have peace, but to be not alone … Jean wondered if it was even possible for him.

He was just washing up after his dinner when Jeremy came home. A smile worked itself around his mouth as he set his things down, and he checked his phone often to respond to messages. His skin was flushed from being outside. He looked like he’d had a good day.

‘What did you get up to today?’ he asked Jean, coming into the kitchen and rustling around in the fridge. He had the restless energy of the very hungry, and Jean wordlessly tapped on the pot cooling on the stove. Jeremy peeked inside and made a noise of delight. 

‘Oh man, I love it when you cook,’ he said, inhaling deeply the smell of the hodge podge gumbo Jean had learned to make on the coldest nights at the Nest, when Riko and Kevin were away and he was alone. ‘Are you sure?’

Jean nodded, regretting his morning attitude. Even though Jeremy represented a lifestyle he would constantly desire and never achieve, there was something about him that made him feel calm, rather than pressed. Even his repeated attempts at socialising didn’t inspire the same kind of defensive aggression in him that casual hangout requests from the other Trojans did. With Jeremy he just … said no. Sometimes he even felt bad about it. 

‘This is gonna burn my face off, isn’t it?’ Jeremy said conversationally, as he dug a serving spoon into the pot. 

‘Probably,’ Jean said, after a moment. ‘Sorry, I didn’t think I would be sharing it.’

Jeremy replaced the lid with a rueful smile. ‘Jean,’ he said, nudging him with his hip as he picked up his bowl. ‘I’m stealing your food. Don’t apologise for making it how you like it.’

Jean turned to watch him settle at the table with his bowl and spoon, phone laid neatly to the side like more cutlery. The minute he noticed Jean hesitate he slid it off the table and into his pocket. 

‘What’s in this again?’ he asked, taking his first mouthful. ‘I mean, besides lava.’

Jean was tired. But staying to talk didn’t seem so awful. He leaned against the counter and thought about it.

‘Lots,’ he admitted. ‘I was very hungry. There’s sausage. Chicken. Crabmeat.’

‘Oh man, I just found some,’ Jeremy said, making little happy noises as he ate. ‘But like, how do you make it? It’s not just meat it’s like, eight thousand flavours trying to kill me at once.’

Jean felt a flicker of amusement. ‘Don’t you ever look in there?’ he asked, pointing to the cupboard beside the fridge.

Jeremy glanced up. ‘Nah, that’s your stuff, man,’ he said, before returning to his food. ‘Is it like spices and things?’

Jean, mastering his confusion at last, managed to reel off what he’d put into his food. 

‘Mm,’ Jeremy agreed. ‘Yep. Pepper flakes. That’s what’s hurting me. Could also be the cayenne pepper. Jean, were you born with a steel stomach or did you acquire it?’

This surprised a chuckle out of Jean, stomped flat when he startled at Jeremy’s answering grin. It was dazzling, that grin. It made Jean feel like he was under a spotlight. 

‘Oh my god,’ groaned Jeremy, a hand on his stomach. ‘It’s so good. My eyes are watering but it’s so good. Where’s the milk.’

He got up for another rummage in the fridge, and Jean idly watched him. His eyes fell on the soft curve of Jeremy’s spine as he leaned forward, one strong, tanned arm holding the door open. He was wearing a white cotton shirt with red sleeves, and the colour looked good against his skin. Jean was too pale for red, still.

‘You want a drink?’

Jeremy was looking at him, standing up straight now.

Jean’s eyes flickered up to meet his. ‘Sure,’ he said, because it was easier than saying no. 

He sat on the other side of the table, in his usual spot, instead of going to his room or for a walk. He hadn’t had any specific plans, other than avoiding staring at the wall until he fell asleep, but sitting at the table chatting with Jeremy hadn’t been on his radar at all.

Jeremy told him about his day, in short but full sentences, and left Jean plenty of time to think about his responses, if he wanted to give any. It was unhurried, especially when compared to the mile-a-minute conversations Jeremy had with his other friends. It wasn’t awkward. Jean didn’t feel like Jeremy was impatient, or bored. 

It had never been easy for him to talk before. But then, no one had ever really asked him to. 

The conversation came to a natural conclusion when Jeremy had eaten his fill and Jean had finished his drink. They washed up together, and put the leftovers in the fridge, and Jean didn’t have time to worry about how to escape now because Jeremy was already on the move. 

‘I’m gonna take a shower,’ he said, pushing their bedroom door open. Jean saw him pulling his shirt off over his head, and craned his neck a little. It wasn’t the first time he’d seen Jeremy in some state of undress; it was impossible when you lived together, and trained together, in a part of the country that felt like it was on fire more often than not.

Jean wanted to follow him inside, and talk more. But he didn’t. He left Jeremy to his privacy, as Jeremy would him. 

Feeling strangely at a loss, he checked his phone a few times. He caught up on the news, and then checked an online French journal that he subscribed to and didn’t talk about. He couldn’t explain his fascination with the wider world, only that it felt like important reading to him. A world he had never been apart of, but would one day be forced to contribute to. 

He shuddered away from that thought and went into the bedroom, where he realised he’d forgotten about Jeremy. He was in there, still wet from his shower, drops beading his bare shoulders and back. Jean startled him, but when he turned his expression was mild. 

‘Hey.’ Then he frowned, seeing the set to Jean’s shoulders, and whatever was on his face. ‘Everything ok?’

Jean clenched his fists repeatedly, trying to gather himself. He noticed that Jeremy was still staring at him, concern creasing his forehead. 

‘I’m fine,’ Jean said eventually. He met Jeremy’s eyes. ‘Bad week.’

Jeremy’s concern didn’t waver. ‘You shouldn’t be alone,’ he said simply. Jean suddenly became aware that Jeremy was wearing nothing but a casual pair of sweatpants. His hair was still wet. A bead of water was trickling down his neck.

‘It’s alright,’ Jean said, trying to relax his fists. ‘I prefer it.’

‘Do you though?’ Jeremy pressed quietly. His hands held a t-shirt, but he seemed too preoccupied to put it on. ‘Kevin said you guys couldn’t be alone.’

Jean’s mouth curled with contempt, the first real emotion to puncture the cold numbness that had spread through him at the thought of his hypothetical future. 

‘Kevin is also miserable all the time,’ he pointed out. ‘Just because he needs the Foxes doesn’t mean he enjoys their company.’

Jeremy raised his eyebrows, and glanced down at his hands. ‘That’s funny,’ he said. ‘I didn’t think you were anything like Kevin.’

That threw Jean. ‘I’m … more like him than you think,’ he stammered, unsure. 

Jeremy finally got around to putting on his t-shirt. It was a faded red Trojans one, big surprise. Jean watched, feeling a little breathless, as Jeremy struggled around inside it before his head popped out. ‘Oh yeah?’ he asked, finding the arm holes. ‘How so?’

When Jean didn’t answer, he went on. ‘I know you two went through some kind of hell at Edgar Allen. It’s ok, you don’t need to say anything about it right now. Or ever, if you don’t want to. But hell doesn’t affect everyone in the same way. You’ve both come through it. Doesn’t make you the same as him, or anyone else.’ He laughed. ‘I like Kevin, but I couldn’t live with the guy.’

Jean twisted his hands around, fretfully. ‘But you … you’re ok living with me?’

Jeremy’s expression softened. ‘Yeah, Jean,’ he said meaningfully. As though it were supposed to be obvious. ‘That’s why I asked you to come to Connor’s tonight. It’s not … like, a pity ask or whatever you think it is. I _like_ you.’

He said it emphatically, and silence hung on the end of it. Jean didn’t know what to say. Jeremy’s resulting blush was like a shout in Jean’s ear.

‘Oh,’ he said.

‘Sorry,’ Jeremy said, rubbing the back of his neck. ‘I just meant that I enjoy your company. You’re my friend. I want to hang out with you more.’ He hesitated, then smiled, throwing up his hands in surrender. ‘Ok, that’s all I have to say. I’ll leave you alone now.’ 

He moved past Jean, grabbing a sweater and his phone. Jean half turned with him, mouth open as though he had something to say.

‘It’s ok, Jean,’ Jeremy said, glancing at him. ‘We’ll hang out tomorrow. Like earlier.’ He paused. ‘That was ok, wasn’t it?’

Jean blinked. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘It was.’

Jeremy turned fully. A slow smile crept across his lips, and Jean felt himself start to relax. Jeremy, smiling like this, was kindling for whatever warmth existed inside of him.

‘Good,’ he said, softly. There was a pause in which nothing was said, and it hung gently between them like something new; undefined, unknown. Jean tried to smile back but nothing happened.

Jeremy waved, just a crook of his fingers, and smiled again. Jean watched him leave, and then spent five minutes wondering what the hell he was doing sitting here, alone, while Jeremy and his sweet smile and his blushes were in the other room, waiting for him.

He couldn’t go over. They’d all look at him. They’d ask questions. Where would he sit? There’d be no point if he couldn’t sit beside Jeremy. And if he did, what then? What was he hoping for? They were watching movies. Jean rarely got any of the jokes, and it made him feel like an idiot when everyone else laughed. 

He picked up his phone, and slipped it into his back pocket. He could see all the notifications from the Trojan group chat that he belonged to for some reason, but there was no point in looking at any of them now. He was already wearing a sweater; Jean was always cold. 

Down the hall, he braced himself for stares, questions, awkwardness. He fought them back like strikers on the court; he was chasing that smile.

The suite was already in darkness when he entered, but it was filled with his teammates voices rather than actors whose names he didn’t know. They were opening bags of chips and cracking soda cans. Jean was starting to become familiar with those sounds, and they lured him in. He wondered if they had any jalapeño Fritos. 

He tried to act like they were expecting him. To his surprise, only a few glanced up and smiled. No one made a scene about him coming to an actual social event, unannounced and uninvited. He made a beeline for Jeremy, who was seated at the back, on one of the mismatched chairs clearly procured from other rooms. Jean paused. Should he have brought a chair? 

Jeremy looked up and smiled, but didn’t look surprised. He raised an arm and pointed to … an empty chair on his other side. 

Jean sat down, feeling a little safer in the darkness. And now that Jeremy was beside him, sitting so very close, he was starting to feel almost normal.

‘Chips?’ Jeremy asked, offering up a bag. ‘You like these ones, right?’

Jean realised he was smiling as he took them. ‘Yes. Thank you.’

The others were talking too; Jean didn’t feel observed, so he asked, ‘What ones are you having?’

Jeremy hoisted up a large multi-bag from the ground. ‘All of ‘em.’

They laughed quietly at each other. In the darkness, while the others chatted and yelled at Connor to hurry up, the two of them talked. Jeremy didn’t say anything about being glad that Jean was here, or how he’d enjoy it or any of that. He was too busy smiling at Jean, and asking him what other kinds of chips he liked, and how he’d tried to steal the beanbag chairs but he prefers being at the back.

‘Why’s that?’ Jean asked, unable to look away.

‘They throw stuff at my head,’ Jeremy explained with a grin, rolling his eyes at his teammates. ‘Something about being the captain, I dunno.’

‘Sounds like healthy bullying,’ Jean said, quoting Alvarez. Jeremy grinned when he recognised it. 

’Thanks, it’s great to have support,’ he said, nudging his leg. 

‘All I ever do is support this team.’

‘Where would we be without you?’

Jean thought about it. ‘Probably in more or less the same position you’re in now,’ he said. ‘Just with more injuries.’

Jeremy laughed again. A few people turned around for a look, and were ignored. 

‘It wasn’t a serious question,’ Jeremy said, nudging his leg again. ‘We’d be at least two spots down without you this season. Trust me, I’ve done the math.’

‘That’s just a fun Saturday night for you,’ Jean pointed out. He was hoping the movie would never start. 

‘No, _this_ is a fun Saturday night for me,’ Jeremy said, and this time he reached out and poked Jean’s leg for emphasis. Jean decided a return jab was appropriate, and for a few moments they dissolved into a deadly poking battle that was concluded by Jeremy grabbing both of Jean’s hands in his own, laughing as they both struggled. 

‘Truce,’ Jeremy said. ‘You’re terrifying.’

‘Not the first time I’ve heard that,’ Jean said, shrugging, as he stopped fighting Jeremy’s hands. 

Jeremy’s expression softened. ‘I didn’t mean it like that,’ he said. He still hadn’t let go of Jean’s hands. ‘Who told you that?’

Jean shrugged. It was hard to think when Jeremy’s slim fingers were wrapped around his hands.

‘The little ones,’ he said, tilting his head towards the front of the room where two of this years three freshman recruits were sitting. None of them had made first or second line, and all of them left the room whenever Jean entered it. And none of them even approached 5’5. 

‘”The little ones”’, Jeremy teased, chafing his hands gently in his own. ‘That’s cute.’

Jean had never smiled so frequently in the same sitting. ‘I’ve never heard _that_ before,’ he admitted. 

Jeremy raised his eyebrows. ‘Poor Jean,’ he murmured. He tapped each of his fingers along Jean’s hands. ‘Should always be told you’re cute, at least once.’

He was looking at Jean’s hands, but looked up when Jean twisted his own so he was holding Jeremy’s. 

‘You’ve probably heard it before,’ he muttered, stroking his thumb across the prominent vein in Jeremy’s wrist. To his surprise, he felt Jeremy shiver. 

‘Well … what really counts is _who_ says it,’ he replied, voice low and meaningful. 

Jean couldn’t look away. ‘I see,’ he said. He wasn’t sure how to take that until Jeremy smiled at him, a little ruefully. 

‘You can ignore that,’ he said, and to Jean’s dismay he started to pull his hands back. Jean’s hands tightened reflexively, before he even knew what he was doing. Jeremy’s eyes widened, and Jean opened his mouth, with no idea what he was about to say.

Alvarez chose that moment to turn around in her seat. ‘Jean, why are you holding Jeremy’s hands?’

Jean’s mouth snapped shut, but Jeremy was ready. 

‘He’s reading my palm, Alvarez,’ he retorted, with a deadly smile in her direction. He glanced at Jean, who had quietly let go of his hands while Alvarez was distracted, then looked back at her. ‘He just saw violence in my future so you should turn around now.’

She rolled her eyes but swivelled back around, putting her arm purposefully around Laila’s shoulders. Connor was finally rolling down the projector screen after the last straggler had come in from the kitchen. Jean hadn’t bothered to ask what the movie was, but he figured he’d find out soon enough. 

However, when the title appeared on the screen he couldn’t read it. Indeed, he missed the entire opening credits and first twenty minutes or so - heard nothing, absorbed no details - because as soon as everyone’s attention was focused on the screen, Jeremy had reached across and touched the back of Jean’s wrist. 

It was a shy touch, nothing purposeful about it. When Jean looked at him - casually, sure that Jeremy just wanted to get his attention - he felt a ripple of shock, because Jeremy was looking at him shyly, from under his eyelashes. 

When Jean didn’t respond, Jeremy slowly withdrew his hand. Even in the darkness, Jean could see that he was blushing. 

Jean rarely did anything without thinking. The only time he really trusted his instincts was on the court. But that had nothing to do with how quickly he reached across to take Jeremy’s hand back, and pull it on to his lap. 

It was an overstep. Jeremy hadn’t meant anything like that. Jean had gone and taken his whole hand - why had he done that? Now it was his turn to blush. 

But Jeremy was, as usual, much more smooth than Jean. He laced his fingers through Jean’s, and his smile was a warm and secret thing that Jean found himself returning. 

All Jean registered, for the next two hours, was the warmth and softness of Jeremy’s hand, the feel of his thumb occasionally sliding over Jean’s, and the unprecedented warm curl of hope and excitement unfolding in his stomach. 

The lights didn’t go on as soon as the movie ended, so they had time to untangle themselves. Jean felt a pang of regret before he remembered he _lived_ with Jeremy.

There was a lot of conversation after, and this time they weren’t left in peace. Connor wanted to talk to Jeremy about something, but Jean found he was surprisingly content to just listen in on their conversation. He thought he’d be eager to leave, desperate for silence again, for the blissful peace of having no eyes on him, no inquiring minds demanding conversation from him. It was quite nice hearing Jeremy talk. 

Finally, people began to shift and get up, gathering trash and sweaters, searching for phones and keys amongst the couch cushions. Jean already had his ready, and he plucked Jeremy’s phone up off the floor before he could wonder where it was.

‘You ready to go?’ Jeremy nodded in the direction of the door.

Jean nodded. ‘You tired?’

Jeremy’s smile widened. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I mean, we should probably get to bed. We’ve got practise tomorrow. But …’ he cocked an eyebrow. ‘I’m not tired.’

A number of people walked them down the hall, saying goodnight at each of their rooms. Finally it was just Jean and Jeremy, unlocking their door and going inside. 

Jeremy went in first, which left Jean the task of shutting and locking the door behind them. When he turned around, Jeremy was right there. 

‘Hi,’ he said. His smiled flickered; he wasn’t sure. ‘Are you glad you came tonight?’

Jean gave up wondering where this was going. He was starting to get an idea of where he _wanted_ it to go, though. 

‘Yes,’ he said. 

‘Do you wanna talk about … what we were doing?’ Jeremy asked. He was trying for coy, but Jean could still see that he looked a bit nervous. 

Jean didn’t feel nervous.

‘You mean … how you had to hold my hand, because you were so scared of the movie?’ He quirked an eyebrow, and startled a laugh out of Jeremy.

‘Was it a scary movie?’ Jeremy asked. ‘Honestly, I couldn’t even pay attention.’

Jean pretended to think about it. ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. ‘I have no idea.’

Jeremy was laughing, but then he stalled, and his face grew serious again. ‘Is this weird?’ he asked, hesitantly. ‘I mean … I hope I didn’t make you uncomfortable.’

Jean pretended to think about it, while taking another step forward so he was right in Jeremy’s space. Jeremy didn’t move an inch, sending a thrill up Jean’s spine.

‘No, I wasn’t uncomfortable,’ he said. ‘I was very, uh … comfortable. Were you? I mean …’

Jeremy was nodding. ‘Yeah, I was,’ he said. ‘I liked it. I like … you.’

Jean smirked, though inside his heart was doing backflips. ‘Yeah, I think you said that earlier.’

Jeremy rolled his eyes, a delicate blush on his cheeks. ‘Oh yeah,’ he muttered. ‘Guess I did.’

‘I like it,’ Jean said. ‘I like you, too.’

Jean had never been truly honest before, and now he was out here setting records. He kept waiting for the panic, the fear, the confusion. For something to stop him and shout _this is a bad idea_. But there was nothing. Nothing but Jeremy, standing in front of him, looking hopeful and nervous and so sweet. 

He had no idea of the rules, or what Jeremy wanted. He only had his instinct, whatever good that would be. 

Slowly, he reached out and took Jeremy’s hand again. And then the other one. Jeremy’s hands felt strong, and soft. Their fingers locked together, and Jean kept expecting to feel stupid but looking into Jeremy’s eyes he couldn’t feel anything but … 

‘Happy,’ he murmured. He cleared his throat, embarrassed. ‘I mean - I like spending time with you. It makes me …’ He trailed off, then gave in with a huff. ‘Happy.’

Jeremy grinned, and leaned in against him. ‘That sounded like it was very difficult to say, Jean.’

Jean rolled his eyes and tried to look exasperated, but he just wasn’t. ‘Not really,’ he said. ‘I’ve just got an image to protect, you know?’ 

Jeremy laughed, then let his forehead rest on Jean’s shoulder. ‘We should probably go to bed,’ he said, peeking up at Jean. 

Jean nodded, feeling just a little disappointed. ‘Right, yeah. Training tomorrow. Stuff to do …’

Jeremy squeezed his hands. ‘What kinds of stuff?’

Jean blinked. ‘Uh, well, like …’ He trailed off, suddenly very flustered. 

Jeremy’s eyes were bright. He tugged on Jean’s hands a little, bringing their bodies closer together, and when Jean looked into his eyes he thought saw a flicker of longing, but it might have just been a reflection of his own. Jean’s eyes dropped to Jeremy’s mouth.

He opened his mouth to say something, but Jeremy was already leaning in.

It was probably supposed to be a peck. He’d leaned in pretty fast - they bumped noses - but something urgent rushed through Jean’s body at that soft press of lips.

Jean’s mouth opened in surprise, and then he was kissing him back. It was a kiss, a proper kiss - was it his first? Jean couldn’t even remember. His whole body shivered hard as Jeremy leaned in a little more, kissing him back. 

It lasted just a few seconds before they broke apart. A single kiss, and then their mutual surprise wedged a confused space between them.

Jeremy’s eyes were so dark. Jean’s lips stung, and he was suddenly very worried that he’d only meant it as a joke, or something playful. It wasn’t like Jeremy to be thoughtless, but maybe he’d just gotten caught up in their earlier flirtation, or whatever that had been.

Jeremy shivered slightly, then ran his tongue over his bottom lip. ‘Jean,’ he said. He was a little hoarse. Jean’s blood surged. 

He took Jeremy’s face in his hand and kissed him with a heat that took even him by surprise. Jeremy’s hands grabbed at his hips, clinging hard as his mouth responded. Jean kissed him hungrily, because suddenly he was _starving_ for Jeremy. His soft, warm body pressed against his, and the feeling of their mouths moving together … maybe it wasn’t Jean’s first kiss, but it may as well have been. He felt alive. His lungs were starved for air but he was _living_.

They finally broke apart and gasped stupidly for a few moments, still clinging to each other. Jeremy’s face was hot in Jean’s hands, his cheeks pink and eyes bright. His hands had slid up Jean’s back; one of them was moving in a slow little circle. It was a tiny touch, thoughtless. Jean had never been touched so gently before.

By the time it was over, and they had both opened their eyes again, Jean’s whole perspective had shifted. He felt off-balance somehow, but only because he was unused to this strange feeling of peace settling inside him as he felt Jeremy move slightly against him.

‘I liked that,’ Jeremy smiled, his face very close, lips almost touching still. 

Jean was very preoccupied in feeling Jeremy warm and firm in his hands, and his mind reached for the first response it could manage.

‘You’re cute,’ he mumbled. Jeremy’s laugh lifted his heart, and filled him with a desire to taste that laugh on his lips. 

’Next time, we’ll host movie night,’ Jeremy murmured. ‘But no one’s invited except us.’

‘I’m ok with that.’

 

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [tumblr](http://thetrojeans.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/lazarusthefirst/)


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